


Great Blasket Island

by diner_drama



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, M/M, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23079532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diner_drama/pseuds/diner_drama
Summary: Erik answered an advert looking for two friends to run a cafe on a remote island off the west coast of Ireland, but will Charles survive the experience without his creature comforts?"Your rock buns are aptly named," said Erik from behind him."Thanks for noticing, I've been doing a lot of squats lately," said Charles, withdrawing his head from the cupboard and standing up. "Oh, you mean the scones."
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Comments: 80
Kudos: 89





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by [this post by onedragonholmes on the tumblr](https://onedragonholmes.tumblr.com/post/190320209034/okay-but-imagine-your-otp). [This is a real thing!](https://www.independent.co.uk/travel/news-and-advice/great-blasket-island-ireland-live-free-coffee-shop-accommodation-food-a9288636.html)

"This is the worst idea you've ever had," grumbled Charles as he wrung out his wet socks over a bucket in front of the fireplace. "And I'm including that time you tried to do origami with a shipping container."

"Come on, Charles," grinned Erik, never so pleased as when he was making terrible decisions. "Isn't this exhilarating? There isn't a soul around for miles!"

"It could be argued that seals have souls," sniffed Charles without enthusiasm, disagreeing on principle.

"You can't possibly believe that after watching them eviscerate that seagull."

"No," Charles admitted, shuddering delicately. "Nonetheless, I would like to register my objections to your plan."

"You've been registering your objections for weeks now, my friend, but you still followed me here."

"Someone had to make sure you didn't do anything stupid."

"Hmm," rumbled Erik, joining him the other side of the old stone fireplace and stripping off his own sodden shoes. "And you believe that _you're_ the best man for the job?"

"I only do stupid things on Tuesdays." After this pronouncement, Charles lapsed into petulant silence, punctuated only by the slow dripping of his wet clothes.

"I don't think it's always this wet," ventured Erik, poking at the fire.

"It's _Ireland_ , Erik."

"You didn't have to come."

Charles sighed. "I know. I'll be more sanguine after I can feel my toes again."

Erik jumped up, happy to have a task, and strode over to the wood pile, selecting a few logs and some kindling to stack up around the blaze in the fireplace and coax it into a roaring inferno.

"Better?"

"It'd be even better if you could use those big warm hands of yours."

Erik shot him a sidelong look, amused. "If you wanted to cop a feel, you could have just asked."

Charles scowled and lifted his legs to rest his freezing feet on Erik's lap, who obligingly began to massage the feeling back into his toes.

"Once you're dry and less irritable, I'll go and set the fire going upstairs."

"I'm always irritable."

"Buck up, Charles. The weather's supposed to improve tomorrow, we might even have some customers."

* * *

It took some coaxing for the ancient gas oven to light, but once he got it to preheat and started putting together the dough for his rock cakes, Charles had to admit that he was having a good morning.

The weather had cleared up, despite his dire predictions, and the ferry captain had called ahead to let them know that they would be bringing some tourists across presently, so Erik had set to work figuring out the coffee maker and Charles had volunteered to start on the baked goods.

Tipping the raisins into the bowl and beating the mixture vigorously with a wooden spoon, Charles reflected that, for a man who was quite comfortable admitting that the had no practical skills whatsoever, he was surviving surprisingly well. Erik was, of course, in his element, striding around fixing things and manufacturing tools out of scrap metal, even upgrading the wind turbine so they could charge both of their phones at once.

If anyone urgently needed a genetics professor, though, Charles was completely ready. On the case. Able to spring into action at a moment's notice.

Sprinkling demarara sugar over the formless splats of dough on the baking tray, he slid his creations into the oven, set a timer, and hoped for the best.

"Do you know where the mugs are?" called Erik from the café.

"Hmm," said Charles, ambling into the room. "No, let me check the cupboards."

Erik had given up on manipulating the coffee maker with his bare hands and instead was carefully using his powers to flip levers and turn spouts, nursing a shiny steam burn on his hand and looking forcefully vengeful. There were some promising smells emanating from the hissing machine, but the safety of the proceedings seemed in no way certain.

"There's a couple, but I assume they're not for the customers." From a creaking wooden cupboard overhead, Charles drew a couple of delicate china cups and left them on the counter next to Erik's project. He handed the teacups to Erik and continued to grope above his head for more vessels.

"Try this," said Erik, holding a cup under a spurting nozzle and releasing a fragrant blast of coffee. He held the drink out to Charles, who gamely sniffed it and then took a bold sip.

"Well?"

"I hate coffee," said Charles unhelpfully, wrinkling his nose. "I forgot, sorry. I think that's what coffee is supposed to taste like, if it helps."

Erik's irritated growl was interrupted by the sound of Charles' kitchen timer. "You should really run that hand under cold water," suggested Charles, disappearing back into the kitchen to rescue his scones. After transferring them to a wire rack, he took an experimental bite from one. Despite having no idea what rock cakes were supposed to taste like, he was still fairly certain he had done at least an adequate job. He triumphantly processed back into the café with his creations held aloft, and arranged them daintily in the display case, then occupied himself rooting around underneath the bar to find the coffee mugs.

"Your rock buns are aptly named," said Erik from behind him.

"Thanks for noticing, I've been doing a lot of squats lately," said Charles, withdrawing his head from the cupboard and standing up. "Oh, you mean the scones."

Erik was carefully inspecting the cake in his hand. "Are they supposed to be this crunchy?"

"Yes?"

"Well, they have a certain kind of rustic charm," he replied drily, nonetheless finishing off the bun and licking the crumbs from his fingers in a way that was not at all distracting.

Charles scowled and then put two fingers to his forehead, listening intensely. "Customers!" he beamed, brightening immediately. "Four of them, and the ferry captain. Put on four coffees and three teas."

"That adds up to seven."

"I'm glad to see that engineering degree of yours hasn't gone to waste," said Charles, giving him a scathing look. "I was including us in the beverage order. I assume you'll be more friendly with some caffeine inside you."

He left Erik grumbling over the stove-top kettle and strode out the door to welcome the new arrivals, relishing the enormous expanse of blue sky and the merciful lack of rain. Last night he'd had only a vague impression of a huge, grey, craggy and very wet landscape that he didn't much like the look of, but in the brisk morning light he could see the appeal of the place. It was actually very green - purple, in some places - and the salt-crusted wind blowing from the coast was wonderfully bracing.

"Hello!" he called as a merry band of hikers crested the hill, resplendent in technicolour waterproof jackets. "Come on in, the kettle's boiling."

As he bustled around the visitors with hot drinks and rock cakes - which went over very well, thank you - the friendly customers wheedled out of him the entire story of their ending up here; how they'd met as undergraduates at university, Charles' academic career, Erik's tenure as a nuclear power plant co-ordinator, their subsequent burnout from their high-pressure jobs, Erik seeing the advert for two friends to run the café on Great Blasket Island, right up to the valiant tale of Erik's victory over the coffee machine this morning. Erik was pretending not to listen, straightening out the crockery and wiping down the surfaces behind the bar.

"Well, you seem like a very sweet couple," said an elderly but very capable-looking woman, patting Charles' hand.

"Oh, we're not, I mean," spluttered Charles, adorably flustered. "He is my best friend, though, obviously."

"Best friend, Charles?" interjected Erik, leaning on the counter with a twinkle in his eye. "I thought I was your arch-nemesis."

"Only when you play me at chess."

"Only when I beat you at chess, you mean."

"They certainly sound like a couple to me," murmured a solid, rosy-cheeked young woman, to general agreement.

After the refreshments were dispensed with, Charles allowed himself to be wheedled into joining the group on the remainder of their hike. Erik was already pulling his boots on the moment the idea was mooted, eager to get out and about and explore the island.

"I don't usually do Outside," confided Charles to his new surrogate grandmother as they scrambled up a rocky slope. "I'm very much of the opinion that humans created Inside for a reason."

"It's bracing, Charles!" called Erik from several meters ahead, standing triumphantly at the top of the hill and surveying the terrain, looking windswept and annoyingly handsome. "It'll be character-building."

"I have quite enough character already, thank you."

He did have to admit, on reaching the summit, that the view was excellent. The dramatic coastline, the roiling waves, the vast expanse of plant life all around them made it almost, he thought privately, worth the inconvenience. A magnificent sheep (ram? Charles did not know) with curly horns and a shaggy coat was regarding them regally from a nearby field, making Charles feel uncomfortably exposed to its prying, beady little eyes.

"If that terrifying beast attacks me, would you come to my rescue?" asked Charles to Erik in an undertone, shrinking back a little. 

"Of course," agreed Erik, clapping him on the shoulder reassuringly. "I could use one of your scones as a projectile."

"I don't know why we're friends," sniffed Charles. "I really don't like you at all."

"Careful, or I'll leave you to the tender mercies of the wildlife."

The group of tourists turned out to be of the vigorous, sturdy sort, and by the time they had all finished their circuit of the island both Charles and Erik were exhausted, in the pleasant way that comes from an afternoon spent exercising in the fresh air. They bid the guests and boat captain farewell and trudged back inside to pull their hiking boots off their aching feet.

"A successful day, I think," pronounced Charles, kneeling in front of the fireplace to kindle a blaze in the grate. 

"Mmm," agreed Erik, striding into the kitchen to gather together ingredients to make hot chocolate. "Better than I expected, in fact."

Once the fire was roaring and they each had a mug of chocolate warming their hands as they sat around the hearth, Charles started to massage his tired feet, folding himself into a pretzel to dig his thumbs into his arches.

"Come here," said Erik, placing down his mug and holding out his hands. "I know you're doing that like a maniac on purpose."

"I don't know what you're talking about," murmured Charles, nonetheless placing his feet into Erik's lap for a much-needed rub. "You know, the weather today was quite lovely. I really feel as though spring has sprung."

"If it stays this warm, we're likely to have a lot more visitors," said Erik with a grin, fingers pressing hard on the soles of Charles' feet. 

"Thank God. I was having visions of us - oh, God yes, right there - of us getting snowed in or something, and cut off from civilisation."

"I don't think that's likely," chuckled Erik, pressing again at the same spot just to get Charles to throw his head back an let out an indecent and completely inappropriate moan.

Outside, the first snowflakes began to fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if rock cakes are an international thing, but for reference, they're basically soft raisin scones with extra sugar on the top. [Here's a recipe.](https://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/rock_cakes_03094)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was about 1 AM by the time Erik's resolve finally crumbled. He turned over in his bed to glare across the darkened room at Charles. The fire had burned low in the grate at some point and the chattering of Charles' teeth was audible from several feet away.
> 
> "For Christ's sake, Charles," he snapped. "You're going to freeze to death, you idiot. Get over here and climb in my sleeping bag with me."
> 
> "At-t-t least-t-t b-buy me a d-d-drink first," managed Charles, nonetheless wriggling out of his own sleeping bag, throwing it over his shoulder and sprinting across the room. He was dressed, ridiculously, in every single piece of clothing that he had brought with him and the movement of his arms and legs was amusingly impeded as he stumbled across the short distance between their beds.

It was about 1 AM by the time Erik's resolve finally crumbled. He turned over in his bed to glare across the darkened room at Charles. The fire had burned low in the grate at some point and the chattering of Charles' teeth was audible from several feet away.

"For Christ's sake, Charles," he snapped. "You're going to freeze to death, you idiot. Get over here and climb in my sleeping bag with me."

"At-t-t least-t-t b-buy me a d-d-drink first," managed Charles, nonetheless wriggling out of his own sleeping bag, throwing it over his shoulder and sprinting across the room. He was dressed, ridiculously, in every single piece of clothing that he had brought with him and the movement of his arms and legs was amusingly impeded as he stumbled across the short distance between their beds.

Erik shuffled over to give him some room, holding open the unzipped side of his sleeping bag invitingly. Charles slipped in as gracefully as is possible for a man wearing three pairs of trousers, and clung to Erik's side like a baby koala. Harrumphing as quietly as possible, Erik carefully tucked the two sleeping bags and all of the blankets around their huddled bodies while Charles continued in his mission to burrow all the way into his bones.

"Do you remember literally eight hours ago when I said I was glad that the weather had improved?" said Charles into Erik's armpit, sounding rather muffled.

"Yes, Charles, it was eight hours ago."

"I would like to go back in time and kick my past self."

"It's just a bit of snow. It'll be gone by morning. Stop griping." With this, Erik turned over to face the other way - honouring his secret preference for being the little spoon - holding onto Charles' gloved hand to settle his arm more firmly over his waist, his warm presence comforting at his back despite his cold nose poking into the nape of his neck. "If you feel the same in the morning, I promise to kick you myself."

* * *

"I don't think the snow has gone," said Charles, waking up Erik from a dream in which he was being kidnapped by an enormous, sweaty teddy bear.

"Muh?" said Erik articulately, not enjoying the way that he felt too warm in the middle and too cold at the edges, like a tomato in a cheese toastie.

"The light outside is too white, it must be reflecting off of some snow."

Erik cracked an eye open. "Why don't you go and look out of the window?"

"At the moment the situation exists in a superposition of terrible and not terrible. If I observe it, I'll collapse the wave function and it might become just plain terrible."

"Dubious quantum mechanics metaphors are not an adequate excuse for laziness, my friend," grumbled Erik, sitting up and disentangling himself from the bedclothes, taking care not to dislodge Charles from his death-grip around his torso in the process. "You can either let me go, or I can carry you to the window like a blushing bride."

"The bride thing," decided Charles, clinging tighter.

Erik rolled his eyes, but still slid his hands under Charles' legs and hefted him up before standing on the ice-cold floor and walking them both over to the window.

"Is it the apocalypse?" asked Charles, eyes screwed shut.

"Slightly," admitted Erik, surveying the terrain. The white blanket of snow stretched as far as he could see, the craggy landscape of the island softened under the thick carpet of ice. "We have enough fuel and supplies to be fine for at least a month, but I don't imagine this will last longer than a week."

"I'll have to take your word for it. I've lost all faith in my own powers of prediction," said Charles, cracking an eye open to peer at the snowy vista outside the window. "Right, take me downstairs and let's get the stove on and run the taps before the pipes freeze."

"I didn't sign up to be a twink delivery system," grumbled Erik, getting a better grip on Charles before navigating down the narrow staircase into the kitchen.

"That was in the fine print of the contract," said Charles contentedly, happy to nestle into Erik's shoulder. "Don't worry, I forged your signature. Right, this is my stop."

Although he briefly considered dumping Charles in a heap on the flagstone floor of the kitchen, the better angels of Erik's nature prevailed and he instead carefully let him get his footing before releasing him.

"I'll get the water heating up," continued Charles, poking around at the boiler's controls. "Would you mind shovelling the paths?"

Shovelling the paths, in Erik's world, was accomplished by glaring very hard out of the kitchen window at a spade that he was manipulating to clear the snow from the walkway between the back door and the outside toilet. Charles, having satisfied himself that the pipes were not in danger of bursting, had dragged out a bag of oats from their supply boxes and was dividing his attention between a hearty saucepan of porridge and some kind of experimental oat bars.

"I might as well try out my new ideas for the baking if we're not going to have any customers for a few days," he explained cheerfully, tasting the mixture and throwing in some cinnamon. "Who knows, I might invent something lovely."

"You do realise that if you poison me, you'll have to survive this cold snap by yourself," said Erik drily, turning away from the window to sniff the bowl suspiciously. He dipped a finger in it, ignoring Charles' attempts at smacking his hand away, and licked the batter off his finger.

Charles made a small, strangled sound and then cleared his throat. "Well?" he coughed, turning away. "Does it pass muster?"

"Could do with more brown sugar, but it's actually remarkably edible."

"There's no need to sound so surprised," groused Charles, picking up a wooden spoon and transferring the mixture into a greased baking tray, adding a sprinkle of the suggested extra sugar.

Erik flashed him a grin and went to stoke the fire in the other room, kindling an inviting blaze at the hearth. Not long afterwards, Charles joined him, holding two steaming bowls of porridge.

"How do you propose we spend the day?" he asked, handing him a bowl and sitting down in a chair, cradling his hot porridge with a tea towel.

"I brought my chess board," offered Erik. "I've had a look around at the bookshelves in here and I'm afraid the options are slightly dire, unless you'd like to do a dramatic reading of _Fifty Shades of Gray_."

"Let's keep that idea in reserve," chuckled Charles. "I brought a few books with me, and you can borrow them if you promise not to do the dog-eared page thing."

"No books it is," laughed Erik, nudging Charles with his foot. "You know I'm a creature of habit."

"I must say," said Charles meditatively, stirring his cereal, "I'm not delighted about being snowed in, but it's still a huge relief not to have to go to work any more."

"I'm glad you took this sabbatical," said Erik gently, not sure how to approach the topic delicately - tact not traditionally being one of his strong points. "You look better rested already."

"I miss my research, and I miss my students, but I have to say, I don't miss working for Professor Shaw at all."

"Imagine that," murmured Erik, raising an eyebrow.

"Do you know, I think this might have been the worst year of my life?" sighed Charles, looking down at his bowl. The light from the fire softened the lines of his face, which had become haggard and drawn over the last few months. "Which is ridiculous. There's no reason for me to be this upset about being bad at my job."

"Were you really bad at your job, Charles?" said Erik intently, leaning forwards. "I know Shaw. I've worked for Shaw. And I know _you_ , my friend, and I don't think it is a coincidence that the moment that man took over your department, your best stopped being good enough."

"I suppose I can't blame him for having high standards."

"High standards, absolutely. What about impossible standards?"

"It certainly felt like that sometimes. I was always getting his instructions wrong. He'd ask me to do something and I'd come back having done it and he'd tell me that wasn't what he meant. I don't know how I managed to misunderstand him so consistently."

"You're a fucking psychic, Charles," snapped Erik, a year of pent-up worry and protectiveness bursting out of him. "You don't misunderstand people. He was lying to you."

"I don't think that's fair. If I hadn't been such a bother-"

"I won't listen to you say that," snarled Erik. "I've heard you calling yourself slow and over-sensitive and inconvenient and tiresome for months now, and I will no longer allow that man to put those words into your head."

"I'm sorry, my friend. I don't mean to go on."

"You can go on as much as you like," said Erik, softening, "but I won't put up with you talking about my best friend that way."

Charles met his eye, at last, and offered a small smile. 

"Now," said Erik, standing up. "I'll grab the chess set and let's see if I can become your arch nemesis again."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh, Charles," moaned Erik. 
> 
> "You like that?" asked Charles, looking up at him through his eyelashes and biting his own red lower lip.
> 
> "God, _yes_ ," he panted.
> 
> "You want more?"
> 
> " _Please_..."
> 
> Charles pulled the second tray of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. "Fine," he sighed, with an entirely fabricated put-upon air. "But if you eat all of these, you'll ruin your appetite for dinner."

"Oh, Charles," moaned Erik. 

"You like that?" asked Charles, looking up at him through his eyelashes and biting his own red lower lip.

"God, _yes_ ," he panted.

"You want more?"

" _Please_..."

Charles pulled the second tray of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. "Fine," he sighed, with an entirely fabricated put-upon air. "But if you eat all of these, you'll ruin your appetite for dinner."

"I apologise for ever doubting your baking skills," said Erik, leaning rhapsodically against the kitchen counter with his eyes closed, mouth absurdly smeared with chocolate. "These are extraordinary."

Charles had spent the last three days of being snowed in practising his ideas for baking recipes, and on this particular afternoon, judging by Erik's near orgasmic bliss, he seemed to have struck gold.

"The customers aren't allowed these," said Erik dreamily. "These are for me. I want to have a monogamous relationship with these cookies."

"That is a very creepy thing to say, Erik," said Charles, placing the hot tray onto the counter and leaning up on his tiptoes to wipe away the chocolate on Erik's face with his thumb. "If I find out that you've been sexually interfering with my baked goods I will call the police."

Erik made a small noise and chased Charles' thumb with his lips, sucking the left-over chocolate from it into his mouth before pausing and making startled eye contact.

"Sorry," he mumbled, turning away and clearing his throat.

"It's fine," said Charles in a high-pitched voice. "No use in wasting good chocolate." He busied himself wiping down the kitchen work surface, willing away the blush that suffused his cheeks. 

His crush on Erik wasn't a secret, exactly - and even without intruding on Erik's thoughts, it was obvious that the feeling was reciprocated - but Charles couldn't bear the idea of turning this friendship, the best thing in his life, into something else.

Erik desired him, yes, but Erik wasn't aware of just how much of a fragile mess Charles was under his chipper exterior, and it meant so much to him to have one person in his life who didn't look at him as though he was broken.

Erik's love and Erik's touch were something that Charles craved with his whole being, but what he _needed_ was Erik's respect. He wasn't about to lose that by letting Erik see the empty shell that he had become over the last year, after his boss had scraped every part of his identity out of him, looked at it with distaste, and thrown it into the biohazard bin. Erik had no idea that he was a hollowed-out husk of a man who had actual physical panic attacks before meetings. Erik didn't need to see just how weak and emotional he was being.

Who has a nervous breakdown about getting a series of bad performance reviews? I mean, honestly.

Erik looked at him with tenderness and admiration. Erik looked at him as though he were all of a person.

Charles just needed to keep it together.

* * *

"I really don't see why it's necessary for us both to check the fences," commented Charles, wrapping his overcoat more firmly around himself. "You're the only one of us who's any good at fixing things."

"It's good to get some exercise in when we're cooped up inside," replied Erik, nudging him with his shoulder. "Besides, what if there was a genetics emergency while I was out here? I'd have been completely unprepared."

Charles harrumphed, concentrating on picking his way through the snow that was threatening to reach over the tops of his boots. 

"I have to say, the place is almost unrecognisable when you can't see the ground," said Erik, climbing on top of the stone shed and surveying the landscape, his profile austere and beautiful in the cold light.

Underneath a snow-covered bush, a scuffling noise caught Charles' attention. Gently, he brushed back the leaves to see underneath, and sucked in a surprised breath.

"Erik!" he called, dropping to his knees and taking off his scarf. Beneath the bush, a shivering mother rabbit was laying prone, sheltering her litter of babies. With immense tenderness in his touch, he used his warm scarf to scoop up the entire little family and hold them to his chest, zipping up his coat around them.

Erik jumped down and crowded over his shoulder to see the rabbits. "Well, it's not rescuing cats from trees," he commented drily, "but this is still very on brand for you, I have to say."

"Go and fill up a hot water bottle," said Charles urgently, carefully rising for his feet and beginning to make his way back to the house. "These babies are too cold, we need to warm them up."

Despite pulling a face, Erik did as he was told, and by the time Charles had gingerly walked back into the kitchen, careful not to jostle his precious cargo, there was a hot water bottle wrapped in towels inside a cardboard box waiting on the counter, and Erik was pulling his hat and gloves back on.

"I know there's some hay out in the old barn," he explained. "I remember seeing it when we walked out that way. I'll be back in ten minutes."

"Thank you, Erik," said Charles, carefully unfastening his coat and transferring the rabbits into their new habitat.

By the time Erik returned, an unnecessarily large amount of hay in his arms, the bunnies had warmed up and were hopping around their enclosure, while Charles chattered happily at them.

"I see we're making friends," he said, depositing his harvest onto the counter.

"This is Erik. He's your other daddy," cooed Charles to the bunnies. "Erik, this fine lady is Winifred, and the babies are called Archibald, Ermintrude, Nathaniel, and Anastasia." He grabbed a handful of the hay and put it down into the box, squealing in delight when the rabbits descended on it and began to nibble.

"You've named them," said Erik flatly. "We're going to be keeping them forever, aren't we."

"Of course not!" frowned Charles, highly affronted. "Once the weather warms up they deserve to be _free_ , Erik. Don't be absurd."

"And until then?"

"Look at their little _faces_ ," said Charles dreamily, watching as the four babies piled on top of each other into a huddle. 

Erik sighed, rolled his eyes, and turned away before Charles could see the fond smile that was spreading over his face.

* * *

Charles was trapped in an impossible situation and approximately ten people, including both of his parents and his favourite biology teacher from high school, were yelling at him that he was a disappointment. Shaw advanced on him, shaking his head.

"I was right about you, you know," he said, and pushed him.

Charles awoke with a jolt, gasping in a breath. Erik made a noise of discontent and rolled over, gathering Charles up in his arms.

"It's OK, _Liebchen_ ," murmured Erik, stroking his hair, voice thick with sleep. "It's OK, it was just a bad dream. You're safe."

"Jesus Christ," said Charles, clinging to Erik's sweater, suddenly aware that his face was wet with tears.

"I've got you, it's OK," said Erik, holding him tighter and pressing a kiss into his hair.

"I'm sorry," mumbled Charles through his tears. "I'm sorry, this is so stupid."

Erik continued to gently card his fingers through Charles' unruly curls. "Do you want to tell me what the dream was about?"

"I don't even know, everyone was so _angry_ , I just wasn't good enough to-" he broke off with a sob. "I'm sorry," he said again. "This is stupid."

"It's not stupid if it's upsetting you this much. Talk to me, I want to help you."

"I really need to toughen up," said Charles, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "I'm setting a terrible example for the children."

There was a pause. "You mean the rabbits, don't you," sighed Erik.

"They need a strong father figure."

"Charles."

"I think I'd just like to try to get back to sleep," said Charles quietly. Erik rolled onto his back and pulled Charles with him, so that Charles' body was draped over his, his head pillowed on Erik's chest.

"I've got you," said Erik, pressing another tender kiss onto the top of Charles' head and wrapping him tightly in his arms. "Any nightmares that want to reach you have to get through me first."

"I think you'll be an excellent father to our rabbit children," yawned Charles, before he drifted back to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik grabbed a teaspoon from the drawer and sidled up to the mixture, taking a sample and eating it quickly, dodging away as Charles attempted to tackle him around the waist.
> 
> "Stop eating raw egg, you maniac!" yelped Charles, swatting at his hands with a wooden spoon.
> 
> "Live a little, Charles!" laughed Erik, licking the teaspoon to get every morsel of brownie batter. "This is delicious, by the way."
> 
> "If you die of salmonella, I'm not going to come to your funeral."
> 
> "And resist one final opportunity to say 'I told you so'? That hardly sounds likely."

Erik awoke slowly, becoming gradually aware bit-by-bit of Charles, nose pressed into the crook of his neck, making little snuffling noises in his sleep. Deliberately holding onto the warm, peaceful feeling that lingered from his sleep, he wrapped his arms around his best friend, surrounding him in both physical and psychic comfort.

"I think the snow might be thawing," said Charles against his skin.

Erik smiled fondly. "Have you formed some form of inter-species telepathic link with the sheep outside or have you actually looked out of the window?"

"Neither, I just have a feeling."

"Far be it from me to question your skills at weather prediction, but it might be worth actually checking."

Charles made a sleepy noise of protest and burrowed closer. "That's a terrible idea. I don't know why everyone always says that you're the practical one."

"Do you have an alternative plan?"

"Yes - you check, I'll stay here in the warm place."

"Masterful," murmured Erik, quirking an eyebrow. "You will have to release your death grip around my chest if you want me to do that."

Charles grumbled a little at this but released his hold on Erik's jumper and instead burrowed into the warm dent in the mattress where Erik's back had been. Erik padded over to the window and drew aside the curtain. Outside, the weather had thawed somewhat and patches of grass and flowers were visible here and there between the drifts of melting snow.

"You were right," called Erik, smiling to himself. He extracted his phone from his crumpled trousers on the floor and checked the display. He had a couple of updates from Emma and a text from the ferry captain to let him know that there were a few tourists willing to brave the journey to the island today.

"We've got customers on their way." Charles' only reply was a groan and an effort to bury himself under the pillow. "Come on, I'll make you a cup of tea and you can check on the rabbits."

After wheedling Charles into getting out of bed and leaving him in the kitchen to start on the morning's baking, Erik aired out the café, lit the fire, and laid out some spare blankets invitingly on the chairs. He plugged Charles' phone into the only power outlet to slowly charge and headed back into the kitchen, finding Charles narrating his baking process to the rabbits, who were showing no interest and instead nibbling enthusiastically on their fresh batch of hay.

"You're not letting the general public experience my chocolate chip cookies, are you?" said Erik, leaning against the jamb of the door. "I don't know if I could forgive such a betrayal."

"The sanctity of your disturbing relationship with my cookies has been preserved - these are going to be brownies."

Erik grabbed a teaspoon from the drawer and sidled up to the mixture, taking a sample and eating it quickly, dodging away as Charles attempted to tackle him around the waist.

"Stop eating raw egg, you maniac!" yelped Charles, swatting at his hands with a wooden spoon.

"Live a little, Charles!" laughed Erik, licking the teaspoon to get every morsel of brownie batter. "This is delicious, by the way."

"If you die of salmonella, I'm not going to come to your funeral."

"And resist one final opportunity to say 'I told you so'? That hardly sounds likely."

Charles scowled at him, then rested two fingers on his forehead and concentrated for a moment. "There's three guests and the ferry captain on the way," he announced, brightening. "And he brought milk! Go out to greet them and pretend to be charming."

"I will try my best," said Erik, heaving a melodramatic sigh as he walked through the door. 

Their intrepid guests turned out to be a lovely family from Dublin, who were content to be plied with brownies and brought cups of tea while Charles regaled them with mildly embellished tales of heroism from their few days snowed in.

While he was in the middle of dramatically reenacting their rescue of the family of rabbits, Charles' phone let out a forlorn little beep.

"Excuse me, sorry. Oh, it's an email from Emma," he said, smiling warmly. As he read the content of the message, his expression contracted and he set his jaw.

"Erik," he said slowly, a core of steel in his voice. "A word."

"What do you need?" asked Erik, striding into the kitchen after him and wiping his hands on a tea towel.

Charles rounded on him, fire and fury in his eyes. "An explanation would be appreciated."

"Charles, what-"

"Well, according to this delightful message I've received from our mutual friend Professor Frost," he said, waving his phone for emphasis. "There's been a change of management in my department at the university, and once I return from sabbatical, I will be heading up the division in Professor Shaw's place. Professor Shaw, meanwhile, has been placed on suspension pending review due to _credible allegations of abusive supervision_."

"That's wonderful news!" grinned Erik, clapping him warmly on the arm. Charles twisted away to avoid his hand. Erik's smile was bemused. "Isn't it?"

"She _also_ tells me that she could never have pulled it off without you," said Charles coldly.

"She said that?" said Erik, surprised. "Very kind of her."

"Erik, what did you _do_?" spat Charles, simmering with rage.

Erik's brow furrowed in confusion. "I thought you'd be pleased."

"You thought I'd be pleased that you've torpedoed a man's career?" Charles shouted, unable to contain himself. "That you've destroyed a respected scientist?"

"It's no more than he deserved," said Erik darkly, scowling.

"And what if I wanted to be the better man?"

"You are the best man I know, Charles," snarled Erik, baring his teeth. "Nothing that man could do can change that."

"You didn't give me a _choice_."

"It wasn't your choice to make. All I did was tell the truth."

"I told you those things in confidence! How could you damage my reputation that way?"

"I didn't tell them a damn thing about you, Charles," bellowed Erik, thumping his fist on the counter. "I told them what he did to _me_."

Charles stopped dead in his tracks and stared at Erik, flabbergasted. "What do you mean, what he did to you?"

"Do you think this is the first time he's tried to sabotage one of his subordinates?" Erik yelled, towering over Charles, eyes flashing. "Are you so naive to think that you were the first?"

Hopelessly lost, Charles scanned Erik's eyes for understanding. "But what-"

"I had the means to stop him from hurting you, and I used them," he hissed.

Deflating, Erik bowed his head and rubbed his eyes with one hand. "I'm going to get some fresh air," he announced, walking away to pull on his boots, leaving Charles backed up against the wall, stricken. Before he closed the door, he turned back, the fire in his eyes replaced with an almost unbearable softness. "If I could do it all over again," he declared, "I wouldn't change a thing."

Charles stared after his retreating back for a long minute before he gathered himself and wiped a rough hand across the tears that had escaped from the corners of his eyes. He splashed some water on his face and picked up a fresh tea towel before heading back into the café.

"Sorry about that," he said through a thin veneer of cheerfulness. "Who wants another cup of tea?"

* * *

"Thanks, Emma, I'll pass on your best wishes," said Charles some hours later, hanging up the phone and then sinking heavily into his armchair by the fire, fretful with worry and feeling like a bit of a tit. 

A creaking sound alerted him to the kitchen door opening. He sprang up from his chair and strode out of the room. 

"Erik?" he called. "I'm sorry, my friend, I am so sorry, I should never have-" He stopped short at the sight of Erik standing stooped over to fit into the tiny doorway, illuminated by the late afternoon sun, smiling a wry smile and holding a bunch of - "Are those flowers?"

"It seemed like the thing to do," he shrugged, walking towards Charles and presenting him with the little bouquet, a surprisingly artistic mixture of wildflowers, tied with a piece of long grass.

"I'm supposed to be the one apologising to you," frowned Charles, nonetheless accepting the flowers and running his thumb admiringly over a petal. 

"You can still do that, if you'd like," said Erik, a quirk of his lips betraying his amusement, as he presented the rabbits with their own posy; a bundle of dandelion flowers for them to eat.

"I talked to Emma about the whole mess," continued Charles, filling a glass with water and carefully arranging the flowers, "and I can see now that I completely overreacted. I hope you can forgive me."

"Of course I can. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

Charles clapped him on the arm and they grinned at each other, relieved. Their moment was interrupted by the oven timer, which began to beep obnoxiously.

"I baked another batch of cookies," said Charles sheepishly, bending to retrieve the tray from the oven. "In case the apology didn't work."

"Oh, I was lying before," said Erik, making grabby hands at the tray. "I'll have to eat all of those before I'll _really_ forgive you."

"Well, it's a good thing I made a double batch," murmured Charles, sliding the cookies onto a plate and steering Erik back through into the front room. They sat facing each other in their armchairs in front of the fire, the silence stretching out into something pregnant and mildly uncomfortable, punctuated only by Erik's chewing.

"Shaw really did everything to you that he did to me?" started Charles hesitantly.

"Yes," replied Erik simply, brushing crumbs from his sweater. "That's how I knew that _you_ weren't in the wrong. Other than, you know," he gestured vaguely, "everything about you."

Charles let out a breath. "You must think me such a fool."

"Quite the opposite. I think you've shown remarkable fortitude."

"Why didn't you report him back when you were his student? You could have finished your graduate degree, stayed in academia."

"I didn't realise that it was unusual. It's only since I've been out in the real world where your boss doesn't hold God-like power over your career that I've figured out that something was wrong."

"Why didn't you tell _me_ , at least? I could have helped you."

"I thought I could weather it myself. I couldn't. I'm not strong like you, Charles."

With a breathless laugh, Charles shook his head. "Oh, Erik. I have not been as strong as I might have appeared."

"Let me guess, panic attacks? Crying in the toilets? For heaven's sake, Charles, do you think I can't see the signs? I'm not a psychic, but I do have eyes."

Charles' heart stopped in his chest at hearing his most closely guarded, shameful secret expressed so nonchalantly, and without judgement. "How-"

"Like I said, Charles, you were not the first." 

With a sympathetic, grateful smile, Charles reached out to grip Erik's knee. Erik covered his hand with his own and squeezed lightly before continuing, his smile turning sharp and feral. 

"Then it occurred to me that I had within my power the means to destroy him."

Charles laughed. "You're a surprisingly vengeful person."

" _Surprisingly_ vengeful?" smirked Erik, picking up another cookie. "It's like you don't know me at all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This is my favourite brownie recipe](https://smittenkitchen.com/2010/01/best-cocoa-brownies/).


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spring truly hit the island over the next few days, melting the last remaining scraps of snow and making Charles strip down racily to a single layer of cardigans. Their shared bed went from having every blanket they could find piled on top of it to just a sleeping bag tucked around their bodies as they cuddled close overnight. 
> 
> Absent the convenient excuse of conserving their body heat, Erik's strategy for their continued bed-sharing was just to lift the corner of the sleeping bag invitingly when Charles had changed into his pyjamas and to studiously avoid ever discussing it. As such, it was a surprise to wake up one morning without Charles' warm, comforting presence at his back. He rolled over, finding the other pillow still warm and smelling of Charles' shampoo. With a surreptitious look around to make sure that he was alone in the room, Erik buried his face in the pillow and dozed off again, surrounded in the scent of his favourite person.

Spring truly hit the island over the next few days, melting the last remaining scraps of snow and making Charles strip down racily to a single layer of cardigans. Their shared bed went from having every blanket they could find piled on top of it to just a sleeping bag tucked around their bodies as they cuddled close overnight. 

Absent the convenient excuse of conserving their body heat, Erik's strategy for their continued bed-sharing was just to lift the corner of the sleeping bag invitingly when Charles had changed into his pyjamas and to studiously avoid ever discussing it. As such, it was a surprise to wake up one morning without Charles' warm, comforting presence at his back. He rolled over, finding the other pillow still warm and smelling of Charles' shampoo. With a surreptitious look around to make sure that he was alone in the room, Erik buried his face in the pillow and dozed off again, surrounded in the scent of his favourite person.

Eventually, he grudgingly drifted back into consciousness and went in search of coffee. He paused at the top of the stairs on hearing Charles' voice. 

"You could not give up a human heart as you could give up drinking," he said, in the soft, low tone that meant he was reading to the rabbits. "The drink was yours, and you could give it up: but your lover’s soul was not your own: it was not at your disposal; you had a duty towards it."

Erik smiled, and deliberately stood heavily on the creaking top step to announce his presence before continuing down the staircase. By the time he made it to the kitchen, Charles was rummaging through the baking cupboard, his copy of _The Once and Future King_ lying unobtrusively next to the kettle.

"Morning!" said Charles brightly. "The ferry captain has offered to pick us up for a shopping trip today if we want. I'm nearly out of flour, so we probably should take him up on that."

"Sensible," agreed Erik distractedly, casting around for the scent of coffee that was haunting him.

"I made you a cup," explained Charles, handing over a steaming mug of fragrant coffee. "I could feel your yearning for caffeine through the ceiling."

Erik murmured his thanks and began the long process of becoming a reasonable human being, sipping on his drink and wandering around the kitchen, poking at the fireplace, saying good morning to the rabbits.

"I think it's time our little birds flew the nest, if you'll excuse the metaphor," said Charles sadly, petting Winifred lightly between the ears. "We don't want them getting too domesticated."

"Are you sure you're ready?"

"It's not about me, alas, or I'd keep them in here forever."

"There's a meadow just past the barn that has a profusion of dandelions," Erik suggested. "Give me five minutes to wake up properly and then we can take them over."

The release of the rabbits would have been a solemn affair if Erik had been able to keep a straight face while Charles tried to impart some final words of wisdom to the creatures, who ignored him entirely and instead lolloped about exploring their new home, nibbling with gusto on any plant unlucky enough to cross their paths.

"Are you quite finished, Charles? It won't do to be a helicopter parent, you know."

"You're right, my friend," he replied, heaving a sigh. "It's time to let them forge their own path."

"That's the spirit," said Erik, clapping him on the back. "Now come on, we need to make a shopping list."

* * *

The ferry journey to the mainland only took half an hour or so, but that was quite enough time for Erik to turn a vivid shade of green and cling to the side of the boat, gazing listlessly down into the roiling waters and trying very hard to hold onto his breakfast.

Concluding his conversation with the ferry captain, Charles hurried over and brushed a sweaty curl of hair away from Erik's damp forehead, placing two fingers on his skin and concentrating hard.

"I think if I just try unscrambling the signals from your inner ear..." he said, screwing up his face. "Is that better?"

"Better," said Erik weakly, taking a deep breath. "Yes. Thank you, that is a great deal better."

"Bit choppy today, isn't it?" said Charles consolingly, patting Erik on the shoulder.

"I'm building a bridge," decided Erik, leaning his forehead against the cool metal of the railing. "Boats are terrible. I'm finding all of the scrap metal in the country and I'm using it to build a bridge."

"I'm sure it will be a very nice bridge," said Charles, in a way that he probably didn't mean to be patronising. Before Erik could snap at him, he jumped and peered over the water towards the horizon. "Look! I can see the shore!"

"Thank God," said Erik, still slumped over the railing. "I'd almost forgotten what dry land feels like."

"It's a shame, really," mused Charles, staring meditatively at the churning sea. "I've always thought you'd make a very dashing pirate."

Erik was just about to ask one of the many questions that arose from this bewildering statement when Charles wandered off to ask the captain about the capacity of the boot of his car. Groaning, he rested his head on the railing and silently prayed for death.

* * *

Their trip around Supervalu to grab food, coffee, and other essential items was brief and uneventful. Erik's shopping list was compiled meticulously in advance and separated by aisle, and even Charles' ebullient excitement at finding fresh strawberries and his subsequent disappointment on discovering that they tasted like damp cardboard could not distract him from the efficient execution of his task. The groceries were selected, purchased, and loaded into the back of the car within an hour of their arrival on the mainland, leaving them free to wander for the remainder of the afternoon.

They gravitated, naturally, towards the nearest pub and set themselves up in a sunny spot at a rickety wooden table.

"Will they still be serving lunch, do you think?" asked Erik, trying to manoeuvre his long legs into the small gap between the bench and the table.

Charles placed two fingers on his own forehead and concentrated for a moment. "Yes, I think you'll find the chef has just decided to keep the kitchen open for an extra half an hour."

Erik shot him an amused look. "I suppose you've already figured out what I want to order and instructed them to begin preparing it."

"You can't decide between the fish and the burger, love, I wouldn't presume to make the choice for you."

The front door of the pub opened and the barman stepped out carrying two pints of lager. "Here you are, lads," he said, setting them down on the table.

"Thank you very much," said Charles smoothly, lifting his pint with a twinkle in his eye.

After a moment's stunned silence, Erik threw his head back and laughed, then ran a hand through his hair and grabbed his glass.

"I should never underestimate the benefits of being acquainted with an unscrupulous telepath," he murmured, taking a sip.

"My scruples are of the highest order," sniffed Charles. He considered this for a moment. "Most of the time," he amended, grinning at Erik over the rim of his glass.

After a brief period of indecision, they both ordered the fish and chips. Charles swapped his little paper container of tartar sauce for Erik's lemon wedge, and they lapsed into comfortable silence, revelling in the pure joy of indulging in crispy, fried food with a loved one on a sunny day.

It was lovely to watch Charles laughing, loose-limbed and relaxed, face warm after a couple of drinks, hair illuminated by the afternoon sun. 

"You're beginning to lose the dark circles under your eyes," said Erik, reaching across the table over their empty plates to brush one thumb over Charles' cheek before he could stop himself. Catching himself, he snatched his hand away from Charles' face and replaced it on the table, breaking eye contact. To his surprise, Charles responded by interlacing their fingers together, stroking his thumb lightly over the sun-warmed skin of Erik's hand, and beaming at him when he raised his gaze.

"Yes," he replied warmly. "I've been sleeping better these past couple of weeks."

"Charles, I-" started Erik, only to break off and clear his throat when the ferry captain approached and clapped him on the shoulder. Charles gave his hand one parting squeeze before they stood and headed back towards the car, making amiable small talk.

The boat ride home was, mercifully, much smoother, and they stood at the railing together, enjoying the brisk breeze as the boat zipped towards the island. When Charles shivered a little, Erik ventured to wrap an arm around his waist and bring him closer, pinned between his body and the railing. Charles just smiled and leaned his head back to rest on Erik's chest.

"If you're about to say _I'm king of the world_..." said Erik drily when Charles opened his mouth.

"The very idea," harrumphed Charles. "I was going to say _I'm flying, Jack_."

The arrival at the jetty came too soon, and Erik disentangled himself from Charles with some degree of reluctance, but Charles immediately slipped his hand into Erik's and held tight as they stepped off the boat. The ferry captain helped them to haul the groceries up to the house, but then genially waved away their offer of a cup of tea and bid them goodbye. They walked away up the craggy incline in the deepening twilight, the scent of a spring evening wrapping around them. 

"Home sweet home," murmured Erik as they reached the door.

"Wait just a second," said Charles, pulling him back before he opened the door. "Erik, I-" he started, then shook his head, irritated with himself for not being able to get the words out. "I need to tell you..." he tailed off, looking helplessly into Erik's eyes.

"Oh, for Christ's sake," he finished, and reached up, capturing Erik's lips in a sweet, soft kiss.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Plutonium gives me a headache. Working in such close proximity to the stuff makes me nauseous. I don't have that problem with steel. I love steel. I could work with steel all day. I wish I could eat steel," he said, dreamily.
> 
> "Please don't eat steel, Erik."
> 
> "You know, I actually ate a paperclip once? I didn't mean to, exactly, it's just that I had it in my mouth and it felt so nice. Eating it was a bad choice. I don't recommend it."

Erik spent approximately one hundred years kissing Charles before his brain caught up with him and he paused for breath.

"What was it you wanted to tell me?" he managed to ask, eyes focused on Charles' lips.

"Nothing terrible," promised Charles, similarly distracted by the heady suggestion of Erik's mouth so close to his. "I just love you, is all."

"Oh," said Erik softly, bumping Charles' nose with his own. "Well, I love you too."

They kissed again, clutching at each other as the sun set below the horizon. Erik palmed the side of Charles' face and melted into the kiss, revelling in the feeling of his sweet, red lips, so long denied to him. They only broke apart once the balmy evening air took on the beginnings of a chill, sending a little shiver through Charles' body.

"Come on, I'll light the fire," said Erik gently, helping himself to one more kiss before opening the front door and striding inside, Charles trailing behind him like a love-struck puppy.

It didn't take long to get a fire roaring away in the hearth, and Charles dragged his chair closer to Erik's so that they could sit with their legs entwined, sharing secret smiles over glasses of Scotch and tracing patters with their fingers over each other's skin. 

"This is terribly romantic," commented Charles dreamily. "But we need a pile of bear skins or something to lie on in front of the fire."

"I would take great pleasure in skinning that horrible sheep," Erik offered.

"That's very butch of you, darling, but I'd rather not have to retrieve your mangled corpse from the jaws of that terrifying beast."

Erik hummed in agreement. "Less romantic."

"A tad."

Placing down his glass, Charles picked up Erik's hand and turned it over, tracing over the palm with a fingertip, mapping out the callouses and lines. When he interlaced their fingers together, their hands fit perfectly, like a missing jigsaw piece slotting into place. 

Putting down his own drink, Erik used their joined hands to pull Charles forward into his lap, straddling his thighs on the comfortable old armchair. Charles went easily, and spent a few moments with his face buried in the crook of Erik's neck, relishing their sheer physical proximity, the joy of being held in the arms of his favourite person. Pulling back to look into Erik's eyes, he tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and leaned in for another slow, intoxicating kiss.

"You won't think I'm being too forward if I suggest we take this upstairs, will you?" asked Charles after a while, suddenly shy.

"Not at all," murmured Erik, running his hands up and down Charles' back.

"I don't necessarily want -" began Charles, blushing furiously. "I mean, it's been a long time since I've -"

Erik soothed him with another kiss. "There's no rush, _Liebchen_. We have all the time in the world."

This was by no means the first time they had shared the bed, but their new intimacy made the whole experience brand new, and they were both a little nervous as they changed into their pyjamas, sneaking looks at each other over their shoulders. Erik clambered into the bed first and held up the side of the blanket, inviting Charles in to snuggle against his body. It didn't take long until their familiar closeness thawed the edges of their nerves and they were embracing again, taking the opportunity to explore each other with lips and tongues as much as they desired.

In the end, their aimless kissing and rubbing against each other turned into sleepy, lazy handjobs, no less intimate as they shuddered and cursed and panted into each other's skin. In the aftermath, they twined their bodies so closely together that it was difficult to tell where Erik ended and Charles began, their hearts pressed together and beating in tandem.

Even after release, they were both too keyed up to sleep, so they carried on with those murmured conversations in the middle night that best friends have, unwilling to close their eyes and end their warm, magical moment in the comfort of each other's arms.

"What're you gonna do when we leave here?" asked Charles through a yawn, tucking his face into Erik's neck.

"Mmm," rumbled Erik sleepily. "Haven't decided. Not nuclear power. Something new."

"I thought you liked your job."

"Plutonium gives me a headache. Working in such close proximity to the stuff makes me nauseous. I don't have that problem with steel. I love steel. I could work with steel all day. I wish I could eat steel," he said, dreamily.

"Please don't eat steel, Erik."

"You know, I actually ate a paperclip once? I didn't mean to, exactly, it's just that I had it in my mouth and it felt so nice. Eating it was a bad choice. I don't recommend it."

"I'll keep that in mind." There was a silence while the cogs in Charles' mind slowly ticked over. "Why steel? Why not, say, iron? Isn't steel less pure?"

"I think it's the impurities that I like. Gives it a bit of a kick, like adding salt to caramel."

"I feel the same about people's minds. I like your mind. It's nice to be around. So organised. There's a lot of rage in it as well, obviously," — at this, Erik snorted — "but it's always very righteous, so it doesn't make me feel as though I have to do anything about it. It's just... spicy."

"Spicy?" He craned his neck to give Charles a quizzical look.

"Just a little bit spicy. Like a jalapeno." Charles yawned and settled in closer. "You could make me something, if you want," he said drowsily. "Out of steel. Like a bracelet or a ring. Then I could be spicy for you, too."

"I would like that," whispered Erik. As the silence deepened, the two lovers stopped fighting the wave of sleep that was upon them and drifted away in each other's arms.


End file.
